


Lined with the scum of it

by Port_in_a_Storm



Series: Nursing on a poison [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Allusion to past rape, Allusions to past child abuse, Angst, M/M, possible triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:18:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7563565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Port_in_a_Storm/pseuds/Port_in_a_Storm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert put a suddenly trembling hand to his mouth. How hadn’t he seen it?... Robert had done things to Aaron, <em>said </em> things to him. And only now did Aaron’s reaction make sense.</p><p>Based on a prompt from tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lined with the scum of it

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for this fic: it alludes to the childhood abuse that Aaron suffered at the hands of his father. It also references times that Robert made Aaron remember his past, so please be wary when reading this fic!
> 
> This is based off an amazing prompt from tumblr: After finding out about Gordon, Robert is looking back on their affair, and all of the little signs of Aaron's abuse that he ignored. For example, Robert calls Aaron "good boy" once, and Aaron avoids him for a while. Or at a hotel, Robert tries to wake Aaron up with sex and Aaron flips out. And Robert now feels guilty about ignoring / not noticing all of these little signs
> 
> I hadn't planned on getting this written and posted so quickly, but the angst spoke to me! I hope that this does justice for such an incredible prompt.

Robert didn’t sleep the night that Aaron told him what... that man had done to him. He watched Aaron find sleep and then get lost in it; listened to the house creaking around him. With every minute frown, Robert reached out to him, thought better of it, wrenched his hand back. His mind was determined to make him remember the flinch when he covered Aaron with the blanket.

Why Aaron? What cruel god had rolled the dice on Aaron’s life, found it wanting of heartache, and so did this to him? What kind of man did this to his own child?

Robert had to get up, pace, just walk, before he lost his mind. But the movement of him getting to his feet made Aaron gasp and wake. 

‘Sh sh, it’s only me,’ he soothed. Aaron’s eyes were too tired to be wild, too sad to be panicked. That pain went straight to Robert’s heart. Was that what he had looked like, when Gordon woke him by opening the door, padding across the floor....

He shook his head, focused back on Aaron. The love of his life, he knew that now. ‘It’s okay,’ he whispered. ‘It’s only me. I’ll keep you safe.’ When Aaron drifted off to these words spoken thrice more, Robert could have sobbed. Was it knowing he was there? Or was Aaron just so tired that any words would have soothed his torn soul?

He stayed where he was and kept watch on him.

Robert heard the church clock strike two. He rubbed his eyes. They were gritty with tiredness. He hadn’t slept the night before at the hospital either: too wretched with the pain of loss that he assured himself hadn’t happened yet. That and he’d had to alternate sitting with standing when the chair got too uncomfortable for his back. 

His eyes never left Aaron. How many times had he wished he had stayed awake long after his lover had drifted off to sleep? Sometimes, lying in the tiny single bed in Victoria’s box room, he imagined Aaron lying next to him, tried to remember what he looked like in sleep. In his mind he always looked peaceful. He didn’t look peaceful now. 

And that was when his mind dredged up memories of Aaron uncomfortable, or in some kind of pain. He hadn’t seen it back then. 

Robert put a suddenly trembling hand to his mouth. How hadn’t he seen it? His eyes filled with tears and he was glad Aaron wasn’t awake to see it. _You’re making this about you,_ a voice whispered in his ear. Andy’s voice. But he couldn’t help it, and in some way he didn’t want to stop it: if the love of his life was suffering, then he’d hurt right along with him. Robert had done things to Aaron, _said_ things to him. And only now did Aaron’s reaction make sense.

The memory dragged to mind first was the lodge. That _fucking lodge where you tied him to a radiator what kind of FUCKING MONSTER ARE YOU_.

He had pushed Aaron back onto the sofa, leaned his body over him, straddled him, sucked and licked his neck. Aaron hadn’t responded like he usually would. _He didn’t want you,_ his mind sneered. _He couldn’t stand the feel of you anywhere near him. But you carried on._ He hadn’t known then. But it made sense now; the way Aaron’s body had gone pliant enough for him to push him back, hadn’t put up a fight. Resigned himself to what was to happen to him. 

Robert felt like ripping his skin off, tearing himself apart. He wanted to rip away the man who had so clearly hurt Aaron with his ignorance and his arrogance and his callousness. Leave behind something that was more decent. Something worthy of Aaron.

Like a sinner being dragged to hell, Robert’s mind dragged him back to moments, instances that—now that he knew _everything_ —became so much clearer. 

He remembered a time (early in the affair), that he had cornered Aaron in the garage again. It was night, and the only sounds were owls and the weird yelp of foxes. He remembered Aaron smiling. It was the third time they had met in the garage; Aaron had the keys and it was easy as anything to sneak away from Home Farm when Chrissie was snoring softly, dead to the world. Aaron’s smile had been sly and sexy. Robert remembered that well enough. It was what had prompted him to push on the younger man’s shoulders, onto his knees. Aaron had done it, had given him one of the best blow jobs Robert had ever received. Panting and squirming, Robert came in Aaron’s warm, wet (still smiling) mouth. He had smiled when Robert pulled him back to his feet, when he’d kissed him forcing Robert to taste himself on his tongue. Robert had panted and grinned. ‘You’re such a good boy.’ 

And Aaron had frozen. How had Robert not noticed? How had he not cared? He had just kissed Aaron’s neck. But Aaron shoved him away, wiped the saliva from his neck and collarbone, and left. At the time, Robert had rolled his eyes, thinking that this was another of Aaron’s mood swings: maybe he had suddenly come over all moral again, maybe he just remembered something from that day and was in a grump. Either way, Robert put it to the back of his mind and went home. But Aaron didn’t speak to him for days. He avoided Robert’s eyes, completely ignored his texts. Robert had told himself that he wasn’t upset by Aaron’s treatment, especially as he didn’t know what he had done wrong. It took a week, and eventually a text in which Robert apologised for everything he did wrong, and everything that he _would do_ wrong ever again before Aaron came back to him. He was shyer, more sensitive to Robert’s words, flinched more at sudden movements. Once again, Robert hadn’t really taken notice, but he did kiss Aaron a little deeper.

Robert breathed in deeply through his nose. He looked at Aaron asleep on the sofa. 

_‘You’re such a good boy.’_

He ran to the sink and threw up the little food he had eaten. Washed the bile and saliva and vomit down the plug. What memories had that dredged up for Aaron? Did he go home, thinking about his door opening? Did he hear the words again in Gordon’s voice? Robert gagged and retched on nothing. He bit his lip to stop a whimper. How could he not have noticed; not have _cared_? But then, Aaron was good at hiding things when he wanted to. No one knew he was hurting himself after Katie’s death. There had been signs, but only now with hindsight could Robert have possibly known. 

He heard Aaron shift on the sofa and froze, listening for the slightest inhalation, the smallest of whimpers. Nothing. He was still asleep then. 

Harsher than anything then, came another wave of memories: a hotel, cream sheets, dull morning light. Aaron asleep. Robert awake and hard. Wanting. Longing. Pushing against Aaron; still loose from last night. Aaron shoving himself awake, panicked, scared. _Terrified_. Robert frowning. _‘What’s wrong?’_ Aaron whimpering, hands clenching the sheets to him. Blinking furiously. Tears on eyelashes. 

Robert pounded the heels of his hands against his forehead again and again. ‘Stop it!’ he gasped between clenched teeth. ‘Stop!’ Anything, anything to get Aaron’s frightened face out of his mind. He choked on a sob. Aaron sleeping on the side furthest from the door. Robert leaving to go to the toilet, coming back, sliding underneath the covers. Aaron jerking awake, a flinch. Too tired to register that it was Robert and pushing against his chest until Robert relented and fell back onto the bed. No sex tonight. It disgusted him, the way he didn’t notice. 

Home Farm. Clean duvet covers. _‘Hide the evidence.’_ A charming chuckle; Aaron looking stricken. Can’t let Chrissie know you’ve been here. Was that all Robert cared about? Dirty little secret. Keep it a secret. Just between me and you.

 _Me and you against the fucking world._ …

…Robert clenched his fists in his hair. Wrenched until he felt too much pain. He hauled back the tears and the ache. Be strong for Aaron. 

He walked back to the sofa. Aaron hadn’t moved.

**Author's Note:**

> Come have a nosy on tumblr!: [](http://www.portinastorm.tumblr.com)Port in a Storm
> 
> Title is a line from 'Sedated' by Hozier.


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